A survivor's story

World War II veteran Bill Allen, who celebrates his 101st birthday this month, is making the most of a second chance at life.

"Everybody began jumping overboard  — those that could. I saw guys that were hurt terribly bad laying there crying, ‘Help, help, please help me!’ The bow is going down, and here comes a swell and washes them out to sea still crying for help, never to be seen again. I’m standing there knowing that my turn was coming.”

After days of tending to the bodies of dead soldiers, Navy medic Bill Allen believed he would soon join them. Moments earlier, the 19-year-old had been eating lunch on the deck of USS LST-523 (Landing Ship, Tank), which was making its fourth trip across the English Channel to deliver reinforcements and evacuate casualties. But it struck an underwater mine and exploded. Now, it was sinking fast into the stormy sea, threatening to pull any survivors, including Bill, down with it.

Just as all seemed lost, the Murfreesboro teen made a daring jump to reach a damaged life raft helmed by a fellow medic. They swam to safety while saving others from the wreckage. Later that day, Bill faced death again while making another desperate leap onto a rescue ship.

In June 1944, during the World War II Allied landings on the beaches of Normandy, Bill — who meant to join the Army, had little experience with water beyond a bathtub, went to school barefoot during the Great Depression, loved his family and thought the perfect day involved a baseball game — became one of only 28 survivors aboard that ship.

A new man

It’s been almost 82 years since Bill, a retiree of Murfreesboro Electric Department (now part of MTE), faced what he thought were his last moments of life. Even as he approaches his 101st birthday, the recollection of the horrific experience is clear. He also well recalls a pivotal moment of clarity while sitting on the rescue ship watching artillery volleys as the invasion of Nazi-occupied France continued.

“Sometime before daylight on the far side of the world, no chaplain, no minster, no Sunday School teacher, just a lonely kid from Murfreesboro, I finally convinced myself that luck hadn’t carried me that far. It had been a power far greater than luck. It was God,” he said.

A new Bill was born during that moment. The teenager, who had celebrated his 18th birthday on the same day he graduated from high school and registered for the draft (May 18, 1943), returned to his hometown three years later as a man of faith and purpose, intent on making  the most of his second chance at life.

Powering Murfreesboro

Bill married Idalee, the “girl from Lebanon,” in 1955. The two would later welcome daughters Patti and Linda. To provide for his family, Bill landed a job at the city’s electric utility (MED). He was responsible for purchasing the poles, lines and other equipment necessary for expanding the power grid in support of Murfreesboro’s post-WWII residential, commercial and industrial development. In a career that spanned 32 years, he saw the arrival of major employers like Samsonite and State Farm, the construction of I-24 as well as the rise of shopping centers, fast-food restaurants and large-scale grocery stores.

Bill also witnessed significant improvements in electricity distribution that improved grid reliability. He even contributed to those innovations by developing a cable inventory device that remains an industry standard.

Caring for community

Bill’s commitment to Murfreesboro didn’t end at MED’s door. He served as a church deacon and supported his daughters by leading the PTA and band boosters. The sports enthusiast coached Babe Ruth League baseball for many years and actively supported MTSU teams.

What is perhaps his greatest community legacy resulted from doctor’s orders to take up golf as a stress reliever at around age 50. Finding limited options to play locally, Bill was instrumental in establishing Old Fort Golf Course, the first major, city-owned public golf course in Murfreesboro. This led to 30 years as chairman of the Murfreesboro Golf Commission and 20 years on the Parks and Recreation Board during a period when most of the city’s current sports facilities and parks were built. And then there was his side gig — one he’d had since shortly after returning from the war — caring for the deceased and their families as an employee at Woodfin Funeral Chapel. He didn’t give up that job until age 91.

Wise words

While he’s proud of titles like husband, father, Christian and Navy veteran, Bill refuses to be known as a war hero. That recognition belongs to those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

“I’m a survivor. Heroes will never be coming back,” he reminds.

As the centenarian wraps up the conversation to head off to yet another engagement — he remains a busy man — he closes with a reminder for his fellow Americans:

“I tell my story to let people know about the cost of freedom. Our freedom  is the most expensive thing this nation has ever bought.”